Once he had the prisoner secured, he looked over to me and asked, “You good?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The guard gave me a nod, then stepped out of the room and closed the door. I could see him through the glass, but it did little to calm my racing heart. After inhaling a deep breath, I turned to Dalton and feigned a smile. “Hello, Mr. Hughes. I’m Sophie Grace, your anger management specialist.”
“Hello, Ms. Grace.” His voice was low and seductive, sending a chill down my spine. “I gotta say. You’re not what I was expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Someone older and much less attractive.”
I pushed my glasses a little farther up the bridge of my nose. “Oh.”
“So, why don’t you tell me what an anger management specialist actually does?”
“We do many things, but for you and your situation, I’ll be helping you identify the things that trigger your anger, and then I’ll help you learn how to manage that anger before you do something you might regret.”
“Mm-hmm.” His metal handcuffs clanked against the table as he rested his hands in front of him and leaned forward. “Well, you should know, I don’t need a shrink. I certainly don’t need a fucking behavioral specialist. I’m fine and don’t have a problem with managing my anger.”
“I’m afraid your present situation proves otherwise.”
“Do you even know why I’m in this place?”
“I’ve read your file. I know about the charges and your sentence, but if you don’t mind sharing, I’d love to hear your side of the story.”
He nodded, then eased back in his chair and told me about the night his sister called him for help. I could hear the hurt and regret in his voice as he revealed the ghastly state of his sister when she opened the door.
All that quickly changed to anger as he explained how she was covered in blood and bruises, and her boyfriend was to blame. It was difficult to listen to him tell the story from his point of view, but after hearing everything he had to say, it was clear Dalton Hughes was no monster.
He was simply a man who was trying to protect his sister. His eyes penetrated mine as he admitted, “I never meant for things to play out the way they did ... I never meant to actually kill the guy.”
“I see.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I have no reason not to believe you, Mr. Hughes.” I held his gaze for a moment longer, then let my eyes fall to my notepad. “I’m just sorry you had to go through that.”
“It is what it is.” Before I could follow with a response, Dalton’s brows furrowed, and he asked, “You married?”
“I don’t share personal information with my clients, Mr. Hughes.”
“I’ll take that as a no.” He studied me for a moment, then asked, “What about a boyfriend?”
“My dating status isn’t up for discussion.”
“No boyfriend either? Hmmm. A beautiful woman like you should have dudes knocking down your door.”
“Not so much,” I scoffed.
“How come?”
“If you must know, I’m divorced.”
“Oh? How come?”
I thought back to the day Brent walked out and sighed. We’d only been married for two years when he informed me that he’d met the love of his life and wanted a divorce.
I wasn’t exactly surprised. Brent and I were more friends than lovers, and while I was okay with it, he was not. He wanted more, and that was that. I shrugged as I told him, “I married young, and things just didn’t work out.”
“Hate to hear that.” He pursed his lips as he thought for a moment, then asked, “What about a cat or a dog?”
“Neither.”
“Seriously?” he asked, sounding surprised. “Not a pet person?”
“No, I love animals. I had a Siamese cat named Angel Face for years, but she passed away last year. I haven’t had the heart to get another one ... at least not yet.” In hopes of redirecting the topic of conversation back to him, I asked, “What about you? Do you have someone special in your life?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“No one at all?”
“There was someone, not so long ago, but that’s done now.”
“And why’s that?”
He ran his hand over his face, and anguish filled his eyes as he told me about his ex-girlfriend Sadie. I had a feeling there was a lot he didn’t tell me, but I didn’t really expect him to share every detail of what had happened—not during our first session.
Regardless, I’d heard enough.
Just like he had with his sister, Dalton had put someone else’s needs before his own, which made it even more difficult to believe he was anything but a decent guy—something that seemed strange seeing he was shackled to the prison floor. It was a thought that resonated with me over the next few weeks.
With each session, Dalton had opened up to me more and more, and even though I knew better, I did the same with him. I’d tried to convince myself it was innocent, that I was just trying to build a good rapport with him, but I knew better. It was my job to keep things professional, but the man had a way of pushing the limits, and he did it without a great deal of effort. Just like he did the day he’d asked, “So, what do you do for fun?”